


Still- On My Hands and Yours

by 3DMG Shenanigans (Lightningpelt)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Baking, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Reincarnation, and the adventures therein, i think so, like supper fluffy guys, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5040154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/3DMG%20Shenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life would be too easy if hearts– or heart-shaped cakes, in this case –just managed themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still- On My Hands and Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Did this for AruAni week quite a while back, rediscovered it this morning, and decided to post it. Because flUFF IS NECESSARY. 
> 
> I'm also writing a longer (like, one or two-shot?) Bakery AU for these two right now, so I thought this was an appropriate warm-up. 
> 
> Please don't forget to leave a comment if you enjoyed! <3

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” The girl was less than certain, and sounded it.

“Trust me!” The boy, also less than certain but more inclined to hide it, cracked his knuckles. “I’m a professional.”

Annie snorted. “Like hell, Arlert,” she scoffed, giving him a rough shove.

Armin laughed nervously, staggering to the side and then exaggeratedly clutching his upper arm. “Oh, you got me…! I-I… I think it’s broken! I suppose… you’ll have to carry on without me…!”

“Like hell!” Annie repeated, shoving him again and this time sending him sprawling to the floor with a squawk. “You’re the one who told Mr. Smith we’d have an _anatomically correct_ heart-shaped _cake_ ready by _tomorrow_. Like hell you’re leaving me with all the work.”

“You’ll thank me when there are 20 extra credit points at the top of your final exam!” Armin objected, from the floor.

“Like _you_ need extra credit, Mr. 102% in the class,” the girl retorted, and the boy laughed.

“Hey, I worked hard for that 102.”

Annie softened; offered her hand and helped the boy up. When he was back on his feet, she kept pulling until they were nose to nose, her eyes narrowed lazily.

“Of course, Armin.”

Blushing and laughing nervously, the boy squirmed away and grabbed a bag of flour. “L-Let’s get to it, then! This cake won’t make itself!”

Rolling her eyes, the girl surrendered and moved to construct the mixer that had never been taken from its package. “Right, because god knows life would be too easy if hearts just managed themselves.”

… … …

“H-Help…!”

Moving like lightning, Annie grabbed the bowl of frosting just as it was slipping from Armin’s hands. Both of them breathed a sigh of relief once she had a firm grip on it.

“Be more careful!” the girl scolded, setting the bowl on the stable counter. Armin smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry! I guess I’m just getting a bit–” an appropriately timed yawn “– tired.”

Annie softened. “Stay with me, Arlert. We’re almost done.”

And they were. Both took a moment to admire the anatomically correct heart-shaped cake sitting on the counter before each grabbing an icing knife, then proceeding to enthusiastically slather it with different shades of red icing. In the process, of course, the icing ended up all over their faces; all over their hands.

And Annie looked down.

“This seems like… such a familiar sight…” she murmured, staring at her red-spattered hands. “Like… they’ve always been stained…”

Armin paused in his work, moving fractionally closer to the girl. “Well…” he said after a moment, “whatever stains your hands…” he reached out; meshed their sticky fingers, “… stains mine, too.”

Annie stared at their hands for a moment, then snorted. “Was that your attempt at waxing romantic?” she asked, flexing her fingers around his. Armin flushed pink, and then rosy red.

“I-I…!” he began to object, but then her lips were on his; both tasted of sweet, metallic red.

The kiss was brief; almost nonexistent, like something that had happened eons rather than moments ago. But both knew, as they resumed their work with jokes about sleeping through the next day’s lecture, that they’d never be alone regardless of what stained their hands.


End file.
